


Dragon Fire

by SpaceAsthmatic



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Thranduil, Best Friends, Burns, Dragons, Feels, Fighting A Dragon, Pre-Lord of The Rings, Pre-The Hobbit, Pre-War of the Ring, Spoilers for Desolation of Smaug, Third degree burn, dragon fire, good dad oropher, injured Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 05:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19947064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceAsthmatic/pseuds/SpaceAsthmatic
Summary: A look at how Thranduil got the burns he shows to Thorin in the Desolation of Smaug





	Dragon Fire

He wasn't sure if Eru had created Chaos or if it had created itself, but regardless, he was certain that it had descended to the ground to walk among them the exact same moment the dragon's screech had split the air.

The night had been silent and black until fire lit every inch it and screams ripped into every breath of space.

Ferdan managed to stumble out of his tent as the flames began to eat away at it, nearly colliding with a soldier who had been significantly less fortunate. The other elf only made it a few more steps before the fire sizzling his skin smothered his life and he fell to the earth with a thud.

The fire spread.

The Dragon screamed again, and even more fire bloomed and roared down on them from above.

Then it laughed.

Every single thing of the world around him continued to burn.

And then Ferdan made himself move.

He took a bow, quiver, and sword from a nearby fallen elf, whispering an apology and thanks as he did so and then desperately he searched for pathways through the fire and deeper into the camp, towards where he thought he had heard the swish of the wings carry the giant flaming lizard. As he wound his way through the burning maze of elves, trees, and tents alike he kept his eyes peeled for a shield.

Fire rained from the sky again and this time he heard a clear and shouted command instead of screams, "The wings! Shoot the wings!"

Ferdan nearly knocked himself from his feet with how quickly he managed to zag in the opposite direction he had originally been going and towards where Orophers voice had come from.

Slowly around him the elves left standing seemed to be collecting scraps of their senses, and so he shouted "To the King!" as he continued his sprint.

They followed.

The twangs of bowstrings haunted the air as Ferdan approached his King. The fires of his rage lit Orophers face in the worst ways, while iron determination keeping it still as stone. The fabric beneath his armor seemed singed on his right side, but Oropher still held his sword with a steady hand.

"Thranduil?" They both asked each other at the same time once Ferdan came to a stop before him.

"I'll find him," Ferdan promised, ducking down and pulling Oropher along with him to avoid being swatted by the Dragons tail as it made another pass over their camp, its laughter ringing in the air and raising goosebumps on their flesh.

Even so, Ferdan could still distinctly see the pit of emptiness that had been dug from Orophers soul after the loss of Thingol widen, the cracks deepening. "I'll find him." Was all he could think to repeat.

Getting back to his feet, Oropher barked, "My shield!" to nobody in particular, and it appeared in a second.

Mithril.

Covered with leathers to keep the shine from attracting horrible creatures, like dragons, from seeing them. Oropher snatched it from the hands and offered it to Ferdan, "Don't lose yourself in the process."

He accepted it with a nod of thanks, "I wont die if he doesn't." And then Ferdan began to back away, another soldier needing something from his King stepping up to take his place immediately, "I'll find him."

Turning, he plunged back into the darkness and towards the direction the dragon had just flown. If he knew anything about Thranduil it was that he tended to do the exact most foolish thing he possibly could if there was even a hinted chance of it saving any of his people.

It was one of his more admirable qualities, and as somebody who seemed to spend half his time struggling to keep Thranduil alive, it was also one of his more irritating qualities.

The dragon swooped back into the air with something clutched in one of its claws, Ferdan could see the silhouette of a few arrows rise to meet the monster but all fell away with no effect. With another roar, fire consumed the ground beneath him and the dragon rose ever higher, dangling the elf in its claw like a hawk with a fish.

Once it reached an acceptable height, he dropped the elf without ceremony. Ferdan didn't see the poor thing hit the ground, but he flinched nonetheless once the elf disappeared into the fire licked treetops.

The dragon swooped low over the forest again, probably looking for its next victim. Ferdan dashed into the hollow of a tree to keep it from being himself, and then quickly resumed his search once the creature had passed.

He hadn't gotten far before the dragon swooped back, a new elf clutched in its talons. An elf he could recognize anywhere, under any circumstances.

Thranduil.

And so Ferdan did the only thing he could think to do to save his best friend, he took an arrow and held it over a flame until it curled along the wood and he aimed for the creature's eyes as he began to rise into the night sky a second time.

And let go.

The arrow soared through the air, and for one of the worst seconds of his life, Ferdan thought his aim had finally failed him.

Failed Thranduil.

It seemed the ground opened up to swallow him and his legs nearly gave way in welcome.

But then with an awfully pained shriek, the dragon released Thranduil.

Ferdan watched him fall.

Hopefully not far enough to be fatal.

And then he began rushing towards him with all haste, hoping that none of the arrows from his fellow soldiers bouncing off of the dragon would end his life.

"You insolent, pathetic, weak abominations!" The dragon bellowed at none in particular, lighting another patch of the forest on fire. "You think you can defeat me? You can take my eye from me, but I'll take everything else from you."

He swooped down again, knocking off the tops of trees with a spiked club on the end of his tail, snatching two more elves from the ground and tossing them into the air so that he could catch them in his mouth with a sickening crunch.

Ferdan just kept running.

He saw the glint of blond hair trapped beneath the rubble of newly burning treetops. He wasn't moving. "Thranduil!"

Ferdan nearly fell into the pile in his haste, and immediately began ripping the branches and leaves off of his friend, flinging them far and wide. "Thranduil."

He could already see a mark across his chest from where the claw must have dug into his skin, but he was breathing. After double-checking nothing had impaled or would otherwise make moving him dangerous, Ferdan grabbed him under the shoulders and pulled him the rest of the way free.

"Thranduil."

The dragon roared above them again and the trees shook with the force and with fear.

Ferdan slapped both sides of his cheeks, "Thranduil!"

With a cough and a gasp, he startled back into consciousness. His throat was hoarse and raw sounding, "I'm going to be really angry if you beat me to the halls."

A hysterical and breathless laugh escaped Ferdan and an overwhelming sense of relief flooded him before dread and panic settled back into his bones. "No, but I just dragged you out of its doorway. It's together or not at all, remember?"

"How could I ever forget?" With a wince and a gentle hand he probed at the wound on his chest. "I hate reptiles."

Ferdan smacked his hand away, "You owe me one hell of a drink after this."

Thranduil coughed again and began to struggle to his feet, Ferdan helped him up, "Its a deal."

And then he saw all of the color drain from Thranduil's face, and a giant thud rocked the ground as the dragon landed behind them. "Move!"

They both dived and rolled to the side, continuing to scramble across the forest floor on their stomachs as fast as they could, ignoring the roar of the fire and pain of the heat.

Ferdan reached a huge boulder and clawed behind it for protection, but turned around to reach back for Thranduil right after. Finding him further behind than he expected, Ferdan got to his feet and ran crouched as low as he could manage, grabbed Thranduil's hands, and scrambled backward just as fast.

"Come out, come out wherever you are." The dragon rumbled a laugh. "Come out and play. You took my eye, now I'll take your life."

Ferdan dared sneak a glance towards the dragon and then to Thranduil's pale face, the blood oozing thickly from his injury.

They wouldn't be able to make a run for it.

"But your eye first."

They probably wouldn't even get to stand up before an all-consuming fire ripped them into the Halls of Mandos.

They couldn't survive this.

They couldn't.

Thranduil looked at the shield, and then at Ferdan. "Is that Ada's?"

"Yes."

The dragon roared a fresh stream of fire into the sky and lit up the expression Ferdan so loathed to see on his friends face. "Who wants to see their Prince die? Who wants to hear his screams?"

Ferdan sincerely hoped that Oropher hadn't heard that.

"Come out little elf." The dragon purred, slithering closer to the ground, judging by the shadows cast by the fires.

Somehow, grim determination was always so befitting to Thranduil's face. So much so that Oropher often made jokes that Eru had created the expression just for him. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Ferdan wiped his brow from the sweat, "I really hope not. Are you planning to find out if that book we stole from Thingols office was right about the fire drakes having thin scales under their chin?"

Thranduil shifted his back against the boulder, smearing red across it from another claw mark on his back. " Yes. Do you think it's true what they say about Mithril being the strongest metal?"

The dragon slithered closer still, having heard their conversation and thinking them still unaware of his approach.

Ferdan adjusted his grip on the shield, passed Thranduil the sword and then slipped his only free arm around his prince's waist, "I guess we're about to find out."

Thranduil took a shuddering breath against him as they got to their feet," Yes, we are. Ten gold coins say he lifts the boulder away from us instead of reaching around just to be dramatic."

It really was a marvel how silently this behemoth of a mistake on Eru's earth could move if it wanted to, if only he had been gifted half the brain cells to remember all light casts shadows.

Ferdan and Thranduil carefully monitored his movements.

"I'll take that bet."

A claw curled around the boulder and ripped it free with a violently effortless movement. It thudded into the forest nearby.

Out of instinct alone, Ferdan managed to cram them both behind the shield and braced against the force of the stream of fire and the awful heat that was unleashed upon them.

They pushed forward regardless, straight for its mouth. The leather that had covered the shield had instantly been incinerated and the metal began to glow with warmth.

They pressed forward.

Closer.

Closer to the mouth that felt like the depths of a volcano.

Thranduil wailed with raw agony.

Closer to this pain being over.

Ferdan thought he might have been screaming as well. The pain was so intense he couldn't see. He couldn't feel.

Closer to the embrace of Mandos.

Yet at the same time, all he felt was pain.

Closer.

Thranduil managed to keep a grip on the sword, and Ferdan a grip on his friend. With extreme suddenness, the flame washing against them vanished, and they nearly toppled over without the resistance.

"What is thi-?" The dragon began to ask in bewilderment at the glowing red orb standing directly in front of him.

And then Thranduil struck, quick as ever.

Up through the bottom of his mouth and downwards towards his neck.

Ferdan made certain to keep the shield in front of them both, near molton as it was. His forethought was immediately rewarded when pooling lakes of fire began to ooze out of the wounds on the dragon's neck, as it bellowed out dying screams.

Throat entirely flayed.

Thranduil let go of the sword as it melted in the flames and staggered back. Numbly he turned to face Ferdan, who almost fainted at the sight.

The entirety of the left side of Thranduil's face was near charred black and still smouldering. The arm that had been holding the sword hung limp and mangled, seemingly hardly attached.

He tried to take a step towards his friends, to go to him and hold him and comfort him.

But his body refused any and all commands.

And then like an unstoppable tidal wave the only thing Ferdan was aware of was his own white-hot agony.

.0.0.0

"Do not speak to me of dragon fire,"

Ferdan watched as Thranduil embraced and harnessed the scars still that still lingered and burned within them. The pain always there.

Lurking somewhere within.

Thranduil spared the dwarf the sight of how his face appeared for the first two months following the dragon attack. When any flesh that attempted to grow was fought back by the lingering heat, no matter what treatments or healers Oropher had found for his people.

But especially his son.

And how desperately had Oropher searched indeed; even going so far as to swallow his pride and send messages to a few select elves from other realms, like Celeborn, in an open cry for help and advice.

It seemed Thranduil had spent every waking moment writhing in screaming agony in the meantime.

He had begged for death.

Galion, apparently, feared that he or Oropher had been dangerously close to gifting it to him.

"I know it's wrath and ruin."

In the end, it was the Avari that finally showed them how to brew the special milk that finally fully extinguished their burns.

Even then, there were some wounds even the Elven body couldn't mend.

Thranduil's own milky white eye came into appearance, and Ferdan was pointedly aware of his own altered vision. His right eye forever gone dark. To match Thranduil's left.

Ironically, Ferdan ended up blind in the same eye he had taken from the dragon.

The creature had gotten half his wish at least before Thranduil had split his face open.

"I have faced the great serpents of the North."

The screams from every elf who had burned on that day haunted his mind, the dragon's laughter, Orophers endless agonized sobs.

All of it.

And then there was a movement in the dark reaches of Thranduil's court, a glimpse of blond hair retreating down a staircase. Obviously troubled. Thranduil had always detested whenever Legolas saw a glimpse of his burns. Legolas' tended to dislike it just as much.

Even as he silently excused himself, Ferdan had to smile a little. Legolas had learned at a very young age if he was going to dare to eavesdrop on his father, to do it on his left side.

Even before he knew the story of the dragon.

He left Thranduil with the dwarf and the rest of the guards and began making his way towards the Royal Family's rooms, guessing that's where Legolas would retreat to for a measure of comfort.

As he turned the last corner the door to their private chambers came into view, having just clicked closed behind someone.

Ferdan quickened his steps, just a smidge. The door swung open as he approached it, having long since learned which elves to let in whenever they wanted and which to keep tightly sealed against.

He entered casually, often times he spent more time in Thranduil's home than his own, but then it had always been like that. Since they were elflings big enough to start causing trouble. They had been inseparable.

The door clicked closed behind him.

"Legolas?" Ferdan called out, unsure of exactly whose bedroom he would have crawled into.

"Here." He answered, voice drifting from Thranduil's room.

He should have known.

Ferdan kicked off his boots before he crossed the space, not needing or wanting another lecture from Galion about manners and cleanliness. He strolled into the bedroom, finding Legolas sitting cross-legged on his father's bed, carefully sifting through a box of papers that usually only saw daylight once a century when a new medical report was added to it.

He climbed onto the bed and came to sit next to the much younger elf.

The paper in Legolas' right hand listed in cold and detached detail every single injury wrought by the fire, the paper in his left hand had detailed sketches of the substantial disfigurement inflected to Thranduil's body.

Ferdan suppressed a wince at the sight, the chilling and sound of Thranduil's begging and screaming ringing absently in his mind.

There would be papers containing similar information about Ferdans wounds in the box as well since Thranduil had not trusted him to not misplace them immediately.

Which was probably a valid concern.

Gently, Ferdan tugged the papers out of Legolas' hands. He knew all of this information, he had read it over and over the first time Thranduil had finally shown him the box and told him everything that happened. "What answers are you searching for?"

Legolas looked up at him with worried and extremely guilty eyes, "Does it still hurt?"

Ferdan felt the memory of the agony sing throughout his body; it would be a sensation he would never forget.

Even if he wished that he could.

"Not physically. Not really."

Legolas' eyes drifted back to the box, to a drawing of his father's face that seemed to almost have less skin on it than a skeleton long forgotten about. What flesh there was hung in strings or seemed one strong breeze away from fluttering away or crumbling to ash. Ferdan closed the lid to the box firmly but softly, "It is only the memory now that haunts us."

He nodded thoughtfully, and pushed the box away from himself. "You're lying to me, aren't you?"

Ferdan laughed, putting an arm around Legolas shoulders and pulled him closer, the same one that had kept Thranduil upright during their charge of the great beast all those long years ago. He rubbed his hand soothingly up and down Legolas' arm, "Only a little bit."

At that Legolas laughed a little too, but also discreetly wiped the corner of his eye, "Thank you for not letting Ada die that day. Or any other day, for that matter."

"I'll drag the both of you to the bitter end of this damn age if I have to," Ferdan promised, and then released his grip on Legolas and stood. "Come, let us put this box away before your father sees it, hmm?"

"Okay." Legolas gingerly handed him the box as if it might bite him, and watched as Ferdan stashed it away back into its hiding place.

"Ferdan?"

"Yes, Greenleaf?"

"If the dwarves wake the Dragon…. Please don't let Ada fight it."

Walking back over to the bed, he kissed Legolas on the forehead, "Funnily enough, he's already asked me the exact same thing about you."


End file.
